Sparrow the Nutter
by Anakerie
Summary: Sparrow lost more than his sister that winter night:  he lost his marbles as well. Just pure nonsense with no nutritional value. Surprise pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**Sparrow the Nutter**

**Part 1**

When Rose got the bright idea to spend five gold coins on a music box, Sparrow's first thought "Oh bloody 'ell! Not again!"

Their little shack was littered with various odds and ends that Rose had been certain would put an end to their misery, would elevate them to the lofty status of the upper class and maybe even develop the ability to pronounce the letter H. It had reached the point where you couldn't roll over in your sleep without being poked in the back by a Salad Shooter, Pediegg, or a Slap Chop. (He did have to admit that the Snuggies weren't a bad idea, what with being homeless and in danger of freezing to death and all.)

But it was useless to argue with Rose. She was all he had after their parents had…well, he wasn't sure exactly what had happened to Mum and Dad. Rose refused to tell him, only that it had something to do with balverines and mating season and that he wasn't old enough to understand. He'd chucked a Sew-EZ at her head for that one. So if she wanted the damned music box he'd help her buy the damned music box, but this was the last time!

"So what do you think?" She'd held the music box out for his inspection. "Ew! Why are you lickin' it?"

"Pie would taste better."

"Well, this will 'elp us get pie! As soon as we're adopted by that simp Lucien it's only a matter of time before 'e puts us into 'is will. Then we'll bump 'im off and Bob's yer Uncle."

"We 'ave an uncle? Why ain't we livin' with 'im then, cheap bugger?"

But of course the music box was a dud. He should have known after he saw the "Made in China " stamp on the bottom of it. Mum had always said not to trust anything made in countries that didn't exist. (She'd also said "Oh beans!" a lot but that didn't seem relevant.)

So they'd gone to bed that night, joined by their friend Steve (who due to a blow on the head from an irate pie vender he'd tried to rob, thought he was a dog.) Steve was a lot more tolerable now that they'd managed to house-break him, but Rose swore that if he tried to get frisky on her leg one more time they were taking him to the butcher's.

The rest of the evening went pretty well, as far as Sparrow as concerned. Nice walk in the snow, brief tour of the castle, a chance to meet their potential patsy Lucien Fairfax.

All well and good until Lucien shot Rose.

" 'ere now! Not very nice of ya!" Sparrow was annoyed.

"You're the fourth! Not one of the three! You may be the fifth but it's doubtful. Your father was probably the second, unless he was the first. If you were the 6th you'd have bigger feet…" Lucien babbled, waving the gun.

"Yer loony and I'm goin' 'ome!" Sparrow pulled his Snuggie tighter around himself. "And you can bloody well figure out what to do with that!" He pointed at Rose's body. "Cause I ain't cleanin' it up!"

"You're the 8th!" Lucien howled. He pointed the gun at Sparrow and fired. The bullet went to the left of the boy and a black hole appeared in the wall.

"Sorry about that." Lucien seemed embarrassed. "I usually have better aim." He fired again.

Several things when through Sparrow's mind as the force of the bullet knocked him backwards through the castle windows. The first being "Oh beans!" which definitely seemed appropriate for this situation. The next was to think that Lucien Fairfax was a bit rude not to toss Rose's carcass out first so that he'd have something soft to land on. It was all a bit much to handle, given his tender age, so Sparrow's sanity decided this would be a jolly time to pack up and move to a safer environment. Permanently.

"Get back here!" The old blind women stood over the boy's body, shaking her fist at the fleeting wits. "Stupid thing. This is going to be interesting…" She bent down and scooped Sparrow up. "Can you hear me?"

"Pie...I was promised…a….bleedin' pie…"

"Yes, yes, come with me and I'll make sure you get pie. And your frie…err…dog as well." She drew her hand back in disgust as Steve enthusiastically licked it.

"Glad I'm not the 6th…bloody 'ard findin' boots as it is…always wished I'd been born a girl…could go for some dainty feet, I could."

Yes, Theresa sighed to herself. Interesting indeed.

/

Looking back, presenting Sparrow with a sword and a gun as 'Going off to kill Lucien' presents was probably not the best idea. Well, it wasn't a bad idea, but Theresa thought she probably should have waited until they were away from the gypsy camp. Especially since Sparrow's first action once armed was to slaughter everyone in sight.

"For the last time, I'm not killable!" She snapped at him finally, pushing the sword out of her face. "Stop that."

"But I turned off the safety!" Sparrow stomped his foot. "You need to die now!"

"You just killed 30 people! That will have to hold you for now, young man!"

Sparrow sulked and put the sword away. He absently stroked Steve's head as the 'dog' licked the blood of the innocents off of his hand. "Stupid old woman…"

"I heard that! I'm blind, not deaf! Now, see that building in the middle of the lake?"

"Yeah?"

"Swim out to it."

"And then can I kill you?"

"No, you may not."

"Then, I ain't doin' it."

"Oh, I think you will. If you do everything I tell you to, you'll get to kill Lucien…"

"I'm listenin'"

"Once he's dead Castle Fairfax goes up for sale…"

"What do I care about that?"

"There's a special potion hidden the basement…I hear it can grant your fondest wish…"

"Regeneratin' pie?"

"Okay, your second fondest wish…"

"You mean…" Sparrow started to weep. "After all this time?"

"Yes, Little Sparrow. The smallest, most wonderfully proportioned feet you can imagine. You'll be able to wear the creations of all the masters…well, you'll have other girl bits to go along with them, but…"

"I don't care!" Sparrow stomped a very large boot on the ground. "I want girl feet!"

"Then swim out to that island…"

A few minutes later, as Theresa knelt on the shore frantically pumping water out of Sparrow's lungs, it occurred to her that in the future it was probably a good idea to find out if someone could swim before ordering them to do so.

/

"Bloody merchants! It's after 10! Why ain't this store open?" Sparrow whined. "I need a new sword!"

"It's not open because you killed the shop-keeper. Along with almost everyone else in town. That's how you lost your last sword: it snapped off in someone's gut! Just go steal what you need." Theresa's voice in Sparrow's head sounded incredibly annoyed.

"I can't do that! Stealin' is wrong! Tis a sin!"

"You're a mass murderer! You're so evil you have horns!"

"Bloke has to have some lines he just don't cross, Theresa!" Sparrow folded his arms across his chest stubbornly. He'd finally learned to say the letter H but he still wasn't fond of it. Bloody overrated, if you asked him.

"Fine. Go sleep at the inn for seven days. There should be some new shop-keepers. Just make sure you leave them alive after you're done!"

"_Harold! Oh, Harold!" The woman was sobbing. "Why? Why?" _

"_Daddy? Daddy, pwease wake up." Her daughter knelt by the man's body, which was draped over the stairs. _

"_Now, don't be like that!" Sparrow soothed. "He's in a better place now. Look, want to see something wonderful? I can dance!" He went into a spirited jig, which caused the woman to start sobbing harder. "Hey! I'm dancing! Look at me when I'm trying to entertain you! Don't make me slap you!"_

"_Monster!" The woman hissed. _

"_I am not! I'm a Hero! Look, I took out a bandit not long ago! See? Got his noggin right here!" He proudly presented Thag's head. "See? Lopped it right of…oh, now you're just being difficult on purpose. What you need is a few hours of good loving. Come back to my place?"_

_It had gone down hill from there…_

Theresa hoped he was on the right path this time, she truly did. Everything had seemed to be going well at first; Sparrow had been skipping merrily toward Oakfield to speak to the Abbot, only stopping now and then to kill some bandits or travelling merchants.

Then he'd run into that idiotic…gargoyle! After having a nice chat with it, Sparrow had decided it was destiny that he too become one. He'd climbed up to the stop of a stone pillar and stayed there for nearly a week, shouting insults at anyone unlucky enough to pass underneath.

"I can smell your bum!" He'd hollered down at Theresa when she'd finally had enough and showed up to confront him.

"You get down from there!"

"Shant! I'm a gargoyle, you stupid wench!"

"You can't be a gargoyle! You don't have a permit for it!"

Sparrow let out a string colorful language and shimmed down the wall. "That? That's what's wrong with this country! Government interferes in everything! Can't run a pie stall without a permit! Can't drive a carriage without a permit. Can't be a gargoyle without one! Someone needs to do somethin'!"

So he'd given up, reluctantly, on the gargoyle dream. Theresa (not taking any chances) also assured him that he would need a permit to become a Hobbe, a Balverine, and a Hollow Man.

"How about a demon door?"

"That's the most expensive permit of all."

She'd convinced him to stop back at Bowertown for a shave and a shower, but it had only taken a few admittedly impolite comments to irritate him and send him on slashing frenzy. He wasn't happy to learn that, like at the gypsy camp, children could not be killed. He'd taken to slapping them instead until they fled on their own. He'd also remembered to praise Steve lavishly for biting a few fleeing citizens on the rump. She'd long ago give up trying to convince him that Steve should wear clothing.

"_He's a dog! He doesn't need clothing!"_

"_He's not a bloody dog! He's a very confused young man!"_

"_Arf!" Steve added his opinion, but no one was listening._

Maybe things would be better now. Theresa was trying to be an optimist about it.

Seven days later, Sparrow was decked out with his new sword and rifle, and ready to go. He was also wearing a corset, a skirt, an eye-patch, women's boots, pig-tails, and had dyed his hair and beard a shocking pink.

"What the bloody…never mind." Theresa decided it was simply better not to ask. "Just get going before the Abbot dies of old age!"

"Can I…"

"No, you can't kill him."

/

When Sparrow discovered the Temple of Shadows , he was like a child in a toy shop. "You mean…I can kill them? All of them? And you'll pay me for it?"

The Shadow Priests looked at each other, somewhat nervously. "Of course. We're evil, after all. Just get someone to follow you into that circle and pull the switch. Oh, and you've got a bit of chick on your mouth."

Sparrow wiped his face on his sleeve and motioned to one of the acolytes. "Follow me, please."

"Sure. Where are we going?" The young man asked happily.

"No! Stop right there, Dave!" The head Priest shook his finger at Sparrow. "We're off limits, now. You'll have to do your recruiting elsewhere."

"There are way too many rules in this bloody world about who I can and cannot kill!" Sparrow snapped. But he'd done as he was bidden. He was especially fond of luring Game Masters into the temple ('Bloody buggers! Report ME to the guards for a high debt!') Only once had the ritual gone wrong and instead of a dead Game Master he had ended up with a very irritate Game Mistress.

"Only a 2% chance of that happening, really." Sparrow had tried to explain to the horrified woman. "You were supposed to get shocked. Or beheaded. But look at it this way: think of the SHOES you'll be able to wear now. I'd give anything to be in your place, Madame. Someday you'll thank me for this."

"I have a wife, you idiot! I have children! I can't…my wife will leave me when she sees what I've become!"

"But think of all the lovely clothing she'll leave behind when she goes. You really need to stop being such a pessimist." Sparrow was annoyed by her lack of gratitude: the sight of her small, delicate feet was almost enough to move him to tears. "Look, if you're that upset step back into the circle. If I pull it again you're bound to die of something this time."

"No, no, that's quite alright. Martha always has been…adventurous. Maybe she'll enjoy something new." The Game Mistress turned and fled, leaving a bemused Sparrow behind.

"I've said it once and I'll say it again." The Head Priest sighed. "If you're bloody stupid enough to follow one of us down here, you deserve whatever happens to you. If you're stupid enough to follow _him…_" he motioned to Sparrow, who was wearing a harlot's outfit today "anywhere you deserve your fate!"

/

Winning the Abbot's approval wasn't as hard as Sparrow had expected. Theresa had told him, sternly, that he couldn't behead everyone until they had sufficiently gossiped about him to the Abbot's satisfaction. Sparrow, when he was done pouting, had settled for running around town thrusting Thag's head into the face of everyone he met. Which had proven highly amusing in one case: Sparrow hadn't know (or really cared) that Thag's mother lived in Oakfield but was delighted to make her acquaintance.

Finally the Abbot had agreed to trust his beloved only child into Sparrow's care, which Theresa was thankful for (even if she did think that Abbot was nuttier than squirrel poop for doing so.)

"Sometimes people call me Hammer when they think think they're being funny. They're not." Hammer was complaining to Sparrow, who nodded in sympathy. "I think I'll call you Fluffy."

"Fluf…I beg your pardon?" Hammer sputtered.

"Come on, Fluffy!" Sparrow was already into the Wellspring Cave . "Race ya!"

/

"Look, you're being way too sensitive about this! I was trying to help!" Sparrow raced after the furious woman. "Thought you wanted the oak on your Dad's grave to get big. I was just watering it for you!"

"Don't…don't speak to me!" Hammer growled. "Don't even look at me until we get to Westcliff!"

"Fancy a trip to the Temple of Shadows , then? It's Poker Night…"

Hammer started to snap at him, and then stopped. "I suppose they have good beer?"

"The best."

"Fine. Poker Night sounds lovely, but so help me if I end up beheaded or a man or…"

"No worries, luv! Would I lie to you?"

The next morning Hammer (now carrying a good portion of the Temple 's gem and ale collections on her back) was in a far better mood. They weren't such a bad lot after all; certainly a great deal more fun that the holier-than-thou version she'd grown up with. Other than the fact that to a man they all called her "Fluffy", she'd definitely been made to feel welcome.

Westcliff went as expected. Sparrow had no trouble beating the Crucible. He'd also had no trouble in killing the innocent merchants in between levels, which drove the ratings so high Mad Dog immediately put in an order for a new luxury wife.

"I get to be a Spire Guard! Theresa! I get to be a Spire Guard! That's even better than a gargoyle!" Sparrow was jumping up and down in glee. "I hope I get a fancy uniform, and they have a 401K, and dental benefits!"

"You are there to rescue Garth."

"Sod Garth!"

"Need I remind you of a special potion…"

"Okay, unsod Garth. Where's the damn boat?" Sparrow scratched his backside, hitching his skirt up in the process and revealing an extremely hairy leg. "Let's get this over with."

Hammer stood on the pier with Steve at her side, watching the boat sail away. "Is that in then? He's gone for a spell?"

"About ten years, give or take." Theresa confirmed.

"Fantastic! Temple of Shadows offered me a spot on their World Poker Tour. I'm going to be so bloody rich I can buy Albion ! See you in 10 years!" Hammer took off in a sprint, and people flung themselves out of her way.

"Get back to the guild right now, Hammer!" Theresa was furious.

"Sorry…" the woman's voice drifted back. "Don't know who you mean. The name's Fluffy…"


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Sorry, forgot the disclaimer last chapter. Blah blah, don't own anyone in this story. Just written for my own amusement. Much appreciation for the kind reviews so far! I'm really honored that anyone is taking the time to read this!_

**Part 2**

The next ten years were easily the best of Sparrow's life. He had a job he was excellent at, his superiors loved him, and he was given the special privilege of being allowed to kill anyone they didn't. They'd also listened carefully to his helpful suggestions on how to improve things. Pull the lever once and a prisoner might get a meal. Pull it again and he might get a poisonous snake in his cell. Again and a hardbound copy of "The Dogs of War: 1" might drop on their heads. It was fun for all, and the Commandants (Whom he had named Pinhead 1, Pinhead 2, etc) were always pointing him out as a shining example to the other guards.

Of course there were a few hiccups along the way. Like when the Commandant ordered Sparrow to kill Bob.

"Bob? Been waiting my whole life for this!" Sparrow eagerly grabbed the sword. "Rose said you were our uncle! WHY DID YOU ABANDON US, YOU BLOODY WANKER? YOUR OWN FLESH AND BLOOD!"

It took some time to get him to stop plunging the sword into Bob's body, and even longer to clean up the Bob bits littering the floor. Afterward the Commandant tried to patiently explain to Sparrow that Bob was a very common name and that the man in question probably hadn't been his neglectful relative.

"Why, we have at least 10 or 12 Bobs here." The Commandant shrugged. "You'll find…where did he go?"

Afterward, when they'd finished bagging up the last of the bodies, Spire Management had taken to encouraging any other Bobs interested in joining the program to select a nice nickname for themselves. For security reasons.

The Spire was large enough to warrant their own private therapist, and it was suggested that perhaps Sparrow might benefit from some weekly sessions with her. He'd agreed; not sure what a therapist was but eager to please. The therapist, after reading Sparrow's file, had stocked up on pies.

"So tell me about your parents." She'd started off their first session.

"They weren't gargoyles. Or pies for that matter. So no danger that I'm eating Mum." Sparrow took a large bite. "What about your Mum and Dad? Human types?"

"Oh yes, lovely people. I had a very nice childhood in Oakfield…have you ever been there? They live the most darling little house near the water mill."

"Well, not since I massacred the lot of them. Shadow Temple business and all. Near the water mill. Yes, I recall them! Your Dad wet himself and your Mum offered me all kinds of favors to spare her life. Took her up on it, I did, but the joke was on her. Lopped her head off anyway, after…are you alright, Miss? Why are you on the floor like that?"

He was rather disappointed that his visit to the therapist had also been his last. Her pie was delectable.

Management then suggested Sparrow take advantage of some of the fun and exciting company activities offered now and then around the Spire. So the young man was willing enough to sign up for the bowling league and the softball team, but not as happy to find out he was not eligible for the women's roller derby squad.

"Not personal, you understand. It's simply that you're...well...not a woman." The Commandant explained gently.

"But I will be! Theresa promised, just as soon as I bump off L…" At that moment Sparrow had a rare moment of clarity. Lucien, technically speaking, was his boss. Bragging about how your biggest goal in life (after dainty feet and magically reproducing pie) was to ruthlessly murder your boss was probably not the best idea for career advancement.

"Lady Gray." He finished.

"Isn't she already dead?" The Commandant frowned.

"Well, yes, but I am so disgusted by her quite unbecoming behavior in life, Sir, that I full intend to resurrect her and kill her again." At that moment, Sparrow made a personal vow to do just that. A man had to live up to his promises if he wanted to call himself a man, after all.

"So about the roller derby squad…"

After a quick meeting it was decided that Sparrow could join the roller derby if he wanted to. It didn't last long.

"Those women…" Sparrow whimpered, holding a cold compress to his knee. One of his horns had been snapped off near the base and he was missing several teeth. "They're…they're…not human…keep them away from me, Sir. Please, I beg of you."

So with one thing or another, the years flew by. There were new guards to befriend, softball games to look forward too, the occasional Bob to slaughter (not too many of them: odd how they'd all just kind of tapered off) and fresh pies in the cafeteria each day. (He'd worked in the cafeteria briefly and had received high praise for it until it was discovered that he'd been 'recycling' disobedient guards into pie filling. No one had been happy with him after that, even though he found that incredibly unfair as 'You were just going to toss them in the bin anyway!')

Yes, his life was going exceedingly well. He'd been assured that he was future Management material; maybe even with his own office overlooking the privies! What more could a Hero ask for?

So Garth's absolute nerve in breaking free and demanding to be rescued was really uncalled for. Especially after he destroyed Sparrow's personal property: the attractive and quite comfortable slave collar.

"You stupid sot!" Sparrow howled. "They're going dock my wages for that! It's 100 gold pieces if anything happens to it!"

"Come with me! We're getting out of here." Garth intoned.

"Not tonight! It's Banquet Night for my softball team! We came in first place, and I'm probably going to get a trophy for my work as a third baseman! I wrote a speech and everything! And there's going to be all the pie I can eat!"

"Fine. I've been here ten years. I suppose I can wait one more night if it means that much to you."

A month later, Garth had had enough and didn't care who knew it. After the Softball Banquet, Sparrow refused to budge because the Bowling League was having a bake sale. After that, it was Fred the Level 8 Guard's retirement party, a surprise birthday celebration for Doris the Secretary ("I can't miss that! She's been like a Granny to me!"), and the Talent Competition ("I've been working on my rendition of 'Wind Beneath my Wings' for ages now! I'm a lock for the finals!")

"We're leaving right now!" Garth shoved Sparrow toward the door.

"But tomorrow..."

"I DON'T CARE!"

"You are a mean, mean man and I hope you end up marrying a mean, nasty, ugly woman with big smelly feet. One who never, ever makes you pie!" Sparrow growled. "Fine! I'll help you escape, you selfish bastard, but only because they've probably come out with some absolutely stunning footwear while I've been in here!" He paused. "And those blue lines on your face look stupid!"

Escaping from the Spire wasn't too terribly difficult. Not once Sparrow had pulled the fire alarm and sent everyone scurrying for the exits.

"I hope you know..." he hissed at Garth once they were onboard the ship back to Westcliff. "That they count heads to make sure everyone got out. They'll notice I'm gone and go back looking for me. They'll think I burned to death! Doris will be heartbroken!"

"There wasn't a real fire!"

"Of course there was. Do you think I'm the kind of ignorant bloke who pulls a fire alarm without there actually being a fire. That's a criminal offense! Course I had to set one myself to make it legitimate..."

Garth flexed his hands and stared out at the water, and decided it was better not to comment.

"Wonder if they'll hire me back, once it's all said and done. Bloody swell group of people. Best I ever worked with! I wish them the best of luck in all their future endeavors!"

Garth looked up at the Hero, taking in the broken horn and the fact that once free of company policy Sparrow had resorted to his pink pigtails and harlot attire.

He wondered how long it would take him to swim back to the Spire if he jumped overboard right now...given the alternative it might be safer.

/

"Great. Here!" Sparrow shoved Garth toward Theresa. "Take him! Cost me the greatest job ever! Where's my potions and money? And Steve?"

"Here are your things. As for Steve, I have excellent news. We got him into treatment and he knows he's a man now. He's even gotten married recently to a nice girl in Oakfield…"

"You gave my dog to some strumpet?"

"He's not...Sparrow! Get back here!"

/

The nice girl in Oakfield (or the strumpet, based on your point of view) let out a piercing scream as she went out to fetch the mail. "Monster! Steve, there's a monster in our yard! And he's wearing...is that my best skirt? Did you nick that from my clothes line? Steve!"

Steve peaked his head out of the house. "Sparrow? Is that you?" He approached his former master cautiously.

"Steve!" Sparrow patted his leg. "Who's a good boy? Who's my good boy? Yes, you are. Yes, you are a good boy!"

"Steve, what is he talking about?" Steve's wife stomped her foot.

"Nothing, darling." Steve grabbed Sparrow and whispered in his ear "It's great to see you, mate, but you need to leave. I'm not yer bloody dog no more. I got me a fine life here."

Sparrow raised an eyebrow, and then reached into the sack of goods Theresa had given him. "Oh yeah? What about THIS?" He pulled something free and waved it in Steve's face.

"A porcelain dolly?"

"Sorry, wrong thing…this!" Sparrow pulled out a red rubber ball. Steve twitched.

"You know you want it…"

"I do not!" Steve's eyes never left the ball.

"Who wants the ball? Who does? I bet you do…"

"Steve, come inside. I'll call the guard!" The wife ordered. "Get off our property, you bleedin' loony! And take off that skirt!"

"Go get it!" Sparrow threw the ball down the road as hard as he could.

"WOOF!" Steve fell to his hands and knees and took off after the toy.

"Steve…Steve come back!" Steve's wife ran after him. "I'm pregnant! Don't leave us…"

"Don't you worry, Mrs. Steve!" Sparrow assured her. "I know just the place to put a smile on your face! Ever been to the Temple of Shadows?"

/

It took longer to track down Fluffy (formerly known as Hammer, formerly known as Hannah, formerly known as "Oh Bloody 'ell! Another girl and this one looks like the backside of a horse! Leave it at the temple: let the monks figure out what to do with it!)

She'd continued to do quite well for herself on the poker tour circuit, and had written several books on the subject of how hard it was to succeed in such a male-dominated career field. She wasn't very keen on leaving it all behind to resume the hunt for Lucien, and had no qualms about saying so. Garth was eyeballing her in appreciation: ten years and a personal trainer had worked wonders on her appearance and he wondered how best to ask if she would like a tour of his tower of power. He hadn't been with a woman in a long time, after all. And if asked, he would swear he hadn't been with anyone during his captivity and anything his former cellmates said otherwise was a damned lie!

"He killed your father!" Therese argued. "Have you forgotten that?"

"Probably for the best. He wasn't the best father in the world. Did you see how porky I was in those days? Letting me eat like that, it was child abuse, it was. It's all detailed in my next book 'Daddy! How Could You?' Just 50 gold pieces: since we're old friends I'll give you a special discount on the Braille edition."

"30 and not a gold piece more! And you have to hold up your end of the bargain where Lucien is concerned."

"If you in…did you just grab my bum?" Fluffy whipped around to face Garth.

"Purely an accident, I assure you." Garth tried to look as innocent as possible. "I was trying to…umm…okay… right. No bum grabbing."

"I don't mind. Really, I don't. I work out, you know."

"I can tell. It's incredibly firm…"

"Enough!" Theresa snapped. "We have a job to do…where's Sparrow?"

Fluffy looked around. "Don't know. Wasn't he just here? Steve's gone too."

"Damn it!" Theresa went into 'mystic mode'. "Sparrow! Sparrow, where in blazes are you?"

"We're sorry. The mobile Hero you have tried to reach is not in service at this time. Please try your useless meddling again later."

"Sparrow… don't make me count to three…"

"Fine. I'm at Bowertown Market! Did you know you don't need a permit to be a pie, Theresa? I'm right delicious, I am! I can't wait until someone buys me! Come back, you tasteless bastards! Eat me! EAT ME I SAY!"

"Okay. Your first task…" Theresa cleared her throat loudly, as Fluffy and Garth had taken advantage of her distraction to begin snogging, "Your FIRST task is to head to Bowertown and retrieve Sparrow. Check the pie vender's stall. Rinse off the blueberries or apples or whatever he's covered himself in and take him to Bloodstone. I'll contact you again there."

/

"I would have made a wonderful pie." Sparrow assured the elderly man, who was peering myopically at him through the bars of the cage. "A taste sensation."

"Well, then, ye won't object to me baking you!" The old man cackled.

"Not a bit!" Sparrow was excited. "Everyone always says I'm half baked! You can finish the job!"

"You're not supposed to want to get burned, you twit! You're supposed to be upset and beg me for your life!" The old man was extremely irate.

"Will you promise to sprinkle me with cinnamon afterward? And maybe a dollop of whipped cream?"

"That's it! I quit!" The old man threw down his torch in disgust. He stomped off into the mist. "Maybe I'll retire and find me a nice Banshee to settle down with…" his voice drifted back to the cage. "World's gone too mad for me…"

Sparrow sat down in his cage, his lower lip sticking out. "No whipped cream then, I take it."

"Woof!"

Sparrow looked over to see Steve holding a key between his teeth. "I suppose you think I should get going. Well, it's not always that easy for we humans, Steve."

Steve cocked his head.

"Alright, alright, onward to Bloody Mary or whatever it's called."

"Sparrow! Are you alright?" Theresa's voice cut into his head like nails on a chalkboard. "Can you hear me?"

"We're sorry. The Hero you have reached has been disconnected..."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Ah, you guys are so sweet! Thank you! Your comments have really made my week. As always I don't own these characters: I'm just seeing how much nonsense they can take before they snap...hope I got all the typos. I've been sick as a dog and finally decided the world had stopped whirling around enough to be able to write some more.

**Part 3**

Fluffy and Garth spent a lovely three days in Bloodstone, cuddling in their new home and taking long, romantic walks on the beach. Fluffy found herself something of a celebrity, as most people in Bloodstone were avid fans of the World Poker Tour. And with that of course came the challenges of "just one game, luv. See what yer made of!" Which had led to the Fluffy becoming the proud owner of the aforementioned home. (As well as a tattoo parlor, a rather shabby carriage, and Beatrice the Whore. None of which she was quite sure what to do with, but figured she'd think of something.)

Best of all, telepathic reception in this area was almost nil, so when Theresa did try to make contact with them, they only received bits and pieces of what she was harping on. They'd made a game of it, filling in the blanks.

'arrow!" Theresa snarled one evening. "ind…Ursala…ow!" Garth and Fluffy had been lounging in bed after a good meal at the inn and a lot of cold ale. A bit too much cold ale, but it had been lovely.

"You were shot in the behind with an arrow, by Ursala." Garth interpreted. "Well, that doesn't sound nice of her. Might want to let the guards know. And get yourself a nice, soft pillow to sit on."

"…marsh! Fetch….!"

"Oh, go fetch your own bloody marshmallows!" Fluffy retorted. "That's not in my job description!"

There was a shimmer of light and Theresa suddenly appeared at the foot of their bed. Garth yelped and pulled the sheets up over his groin.

"You ever heard of knocking?" Fluffy was annoyed. "Calling ahead?"

"I don't have time for this! You both need to get dressed this instant, go into the Wraithmarsh, and fetch Sparrow!"

"Oh, Theresa, I'm sure he's fine. You know Sparrow: just taking the scenic route."

"Not this time. He's stumbled upon the remains of Madame Ursala's Home for Little Lost Souls and decided that applies to him! He's moved in and made himself at quite comfortable, and he's content to stay until he rots of old age unless someone goes to fetch him."

"So why don't you go?"

"Because I'm blind and 500 years old, that's why! And because I might owe 50 quid to the Queen Banshee…" The last part was muttered so faintly neither of the Heroes caught it.

"Fine. Come on, Garth. Get your trousers on. Let's go Sparrow hunting."

/

"But I AM a little lost soul!" Sparrow protested, as Fluffy (an iron grip on his hand) dragged him through the marsh and back toward Bloodstone. "And Madame Ursala could be my new Mum! It would be so splendid, it would. I'd make her cards in school for Mother's Day, and she'd bake me pie before bedtime, and read me the nicest of stories. I'd have little brothers and sisters to play with… oh, there she is! Mum! Mum, it's me! Your new darling!"

Before Fluffy could stop him, Sparrow had ripped himself free of her grasp and into the path of a Banshee.

"Your sister weeps…" Was all the extremely startled Banshee could manage to get out before Sparrow threw his arms around her. "Oh, Mummy, I've been ever so good!" He began noisily kissing her cheek.

"Here now! You're not my brother!" One of the Banshee's offspring kicked him in the shin. She stopped and took in the flower-pattered dress and bonnet Sparrow had decked himself out in today. "Although you do make a prettier sister than Millicent, I suppose. Ouch! Mummy! Millicent bit me!" She shook another dark-cloaked child off of her arm.

Garth had heard a story (probably just one of those stupid things) that Madame Ursala had helped her 'little lost souls' cover up the murder of an unpopular classmate. As a result she and her charges had been cursed and turned into Banshees. So it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that Sparrow was spot on and this was in fact the woman in question. He considered mentioning it, but decided to save the story for another time. Fluffy, who was seething, did not look in the mood for a history lesson.

"Sparrow, that's not your Mum! Let go of the nice hellspawn. Come on, now."

"Really now, I'm flattered but…young man, I must insist…" The Banshee struggled. "Don't make me be mean!"

"Yeah. Mum's a you-know-what when she's mad at you." The offspring identified as Millicent chimed in, and took advantage of everyone's distraction to slip a moldy-looking pile of rags out from under her sister's arm.

"Do I have to share a room with him?" Another one of the Banshee's children whined. "I don't want to share my room! I already share with Elsbeth and she leaves the heads of her victims everywhere and I trip over them in the night going to the privy!"

"Well, you ooze the bed!"

"I'll be much nicer than they are, Mummy." Sparrow promised. "I'll even kick my legs extra high when you change my nappies!"

"Fine. You asked for it!" The Banshee had had enough. She turned on her "extra creepy" voice. "You'll never be a woman! You'll have big, ugly feet forever! You'll never wear Manolo Blahnick!"

Sparrow released her instantly and his eyes narrowed. His hand twitched on the hilt of his sword, and for the next few minutes he looked every inch the Hero fate had wanted him to become. The Banshee and her children put up only token resistance before fleeing into the depths of the swamp. Very faintly, Fluffy could hear a small voice yelling "Mummy! Millicent stole my dolly!"

"Now I'll never have a Mum. Until I meet this old man in a shop who looks like Father Christmas and make a wish, and then I'll get a Mum for the holidays and it will snow and the entire town will help light a big tree!"

"Sparrow…what have we told you about the Hallmark Channel?" Garth shook his finger at the Hero, who hung his head.

"Come on…" Fluffy patted his arm. "You'll like Bloodstone. They have great pie. There's a good lad, give me a smile"

Sparrow managed a small one, and Steve rubbed up against his leg. "Wait…oh bloody hell, what does she want…yes, Theresa, you old prune…find who? Are you sure…why do you need…okay, okay…"

"Right. Onward to Bloodstone." Sparrow straightened his bonnet. "Although the old bat's gone and lost her bleedin' mind this time 'round."

/

"You moron! You stupid excuse for a Hero! Of all of the idiotic things you've pulled…!" Theresa shook her fist in Sparrow's face.

"Don't you yell at me, you senile old hag! I asked if you were sure!" Sparrow, who was covered head to toe in scratches, blood, and bite marks, shot back. "You're just trying to cover your own backside!"

"I very clearly said 'Reaver' and you know it!"

"Did not!" Sparrow glanced at Garth and Fluffy for support, but neither of them looked very supportive at the moment. They looked more than a little mad, and both of them were in worse shape than Sparrow. Garth's clothing was torn to shreds and a good half of Fluffy's hair had been ripped out in chunks.

"WHY ON EARTH WOULD I HAVE SAID BIEBER?" Theresa screeched, her face so red she looked as if she were about to have a heart attack.

"Damned if I know. Thought you'd gone 'round the bend." Sparrow shrugged. "Look, simple misunderstanding. Did think he was a bit on the puny side for a Hero. A bit girly looking, but he had such nice feet, bless him. Course I did get a bit annoyed when he kept saying I had the wrong bloke. Probably shouldn't have thrown the bag over his head and hauled him away like that. Entirely my fault, that part: as punishment I'm limiting myself to one pie tonight. Well, two if they're smallish…"

"You slaughtered over 1000 little girls!" Theresa wasn't about to let this go.

"They attacked us, Theresa! They just came up out of the ground like Hollow Men! Self defense, it was. And you said I couldn't kill children! You lied to me, Theresa!"

"I'm not holding the two of you blameless in this!" Theresa gave up and turned her fury on Garth and Fluffy, who were trying to sneak away. "Where's the boy now?"

"We sent him in our carriage to Oakfield." Garth looked sheepish. "Beatrice the Wh...very nice young lady said she'd escort him. We even treated him to a nice haircut first and talked him out of all that silly lawsuit business..." Garth paused and glanced at Fluffy, who sighed. "Better tell her the rest of it."

"So anyway, they made it about halfway through the Wraithmarsh before...well, how were WE to know the Banshee's little brats were fans of his? Apparently he sounds like 'Mummy's lullabies'. Beatrice said they were all fighting over him as they dragged him off to parts unknown. I'm sure he's fine. You know how fickle little girls are. They'll grow bored with him soon enough and send him on his way. No real harm done, and probably a nice vacation for the lad."

"You'd better hope so! We simply don't need the negative publicity!" Theresa sighed. "You!" She grabbed Sparrow. "You march right up there to that big house and convince Reaver to come with us. I don't care what you have to do. Say what you want to him, threaten him, play Parcheesi with him. Whatever it takes! I want this over with!"

/

Reaver was rather proud of the fact that after several hundred years he didn't startle easily. Except when the toast popped up, but he had a sneaking suspicion there wasn't a person alive who wasn't at least a bit afraid of the toaster. His man-servants now insisted on being the ones to make the morning toast: Reaver had shot far too many of the devices for their liking.

The telly tended to startle him too, when it went to commercial and it was louder than the program. (Bloody annoying that: should be against the law.) He also wasn't overly fond of the doorbell, popping balloons, barking dogs, logs in the fire crackling, and fondue. Fondue, although not inclined to make loud noises, had been a mortal enemy of his for years after an old lover had encouraged him to dip something into the pot that no business ever being dipped in melted cheese. (His man-servants had also taken to very carefully cutting "The Family Circus" out of the Bloodstone Examiner because Reaver found P.J. 'despicable')

Mostly he was content staying inside his cozy mansion, organizing his vast collection of "The Hero of Oakvale" comics and writing stern letters to the editor of the Examiner about news stories that had caught his attention. ("Everyone complains about the gargoyle problem but no one is actually _doing_ anything about it! You'll be walking along minding your own business, and then they holler out some nonsense and it's enough to make a...a child soil himself!") As long as there were no expected loud noises, no one smuggled in fondue, and that wretched little devil-whelp P.J. was kept far out of sight he considered himself a very brave man indeed. Fearless, really.

Still, while he wouldn't admit to being…frightened of the large man who stormed into his house, pink pigtails bouncing, and thrust a Parcheesi board into his face, he was a bit unnerved. Mostly because Sparrow bore an uncanny resemblance to Denny Sanders, who used to sit next to Reaver in school and had once forced him to eat a live spider. Right down to the frilly dress, in fact. (Denny wore the dress; the spider had been naked.)

It didn't help when Sparrow had shut the door behind him. Loudly. Which caused Steve to bark. It took Reaver several minutes to process the fact that Steve was human and naked.

"Please don't kill me." Reaver stammered. "I mean…hello there. Who might you be?"

"Are you the Hero of Skull?" Sparrow demanded.

"That's SKILL." Theresa hissed in his head.

"Shut UP! I'm handling this one!" Sparrow snarled, causing Reaver to nearly jump out of his skin.

"I'm…no, I'm not." Reaver thought this was perhaps the best approach. "He's on holiday in Samarkand. I'm his butler…umm….Lucille."

"Oh. Right. Sorry to bother you then." Sparrow nodded politely and turned to leave.

"Don't you dare!" Theresa ordered. "He's lying to you! That's Reaver."

"Here now!" Sparrow as insulted as he turned back around. "That's not nice of you! I've come a long way to meet you! I lost three nice jobs, a cozy little house, and a Mummy along the way! You're a dishonest man, Lucille!" He growled menacingly to prove his point: liars irked him.

"Is your...dog...friend...I paid a lot of money for that carpet! Stop that! Bad...um...thingy!" Reaver yelled at Steve, who hung his head sheepishly.

"Don't go changing the subject! You're the Hero of Swill, you are! Come on, then. There's a right nice sale on footware in Bowerstone Old Town and I want this over with before it ends!"

"I..umm...have a prior commitment." Reaver thought quickly. "Have to make a delivery. But you could make it for me. Save me a lot of time and then I'll be free to do whatever you need. "Here!" He thrust the seal into Sparrow's hands. "Be a good lad and go get yourself kill…errr...make yourself useful."

"No." Sparrow folded his arms.

"What do you mean, no?" Reaver blinked. "My good lad, I just asked you for a simple favor."

"You didn't say please, you wanker!" Sparrow was insulted. "I got enough people ordering me about! Sparrow do this. Sparrow do that! I don't need another one! If I do this, I want something out of it!"

"My help in defeating Lucien isn't enough?" Reaver was insulted. "I assure you, I'm quite talented! You'll need my skills!"

"I want more than that." Sparrow tried to think of the best way to broach the subject that had been on his mind since walking into the room. What was that wonderful line he'd heard the man behind Cow and Corset use? Oh yes...

"I want to ride you like a race horse."

Reaver choked on his cognac. "You want WHAT?"

"You heard me." Sparrow as pleased with himself. Who said romance had to be complicated? The man was positively swooning.

"You want...you and me...are you mad?"

"Yes. Well, so everyone tells me. Especially after I tried to become a pie. If you ask me, it's the world that's gone mad. So which way to your bed, then?"

"Sparrow!" Theresa's shocked voice cut into his head. "This is completely unacceptable! There are a dozen or so very willing people down by the dock…"

"Nope. I want that one!" Sparrow pointed at Reaver. "Got pretty hair, he does. Plus, he sounds like Stephen Fry. I do love me some Stephen Fry."

"Go for it, Sparrow! You the man!"

"That will be quite enough out of you, Fluffy!" Theresa snapped.

"You said I could do what I wanted to him." Sparrow reminded the old woman.

"Who in the hell are speaking to?" Reaver was not frightened. Not a bit. His knees always knocked together when he was having a civil conversation with a horny, multi-personalitied lunatic.

"Sorry. I'll conference you in. Lucille, Theresa. Theresa, Lucille. Can I please have him? Please. It's been a long time since I've had nookie. The whores all run away from me now on account of me killing them afterward."

"I've told you a dozen times, they're SUPPOSED to ask you for money at the end...fine. Just make it quick." Theresa decided this wasn't a battle she had the energy to fight right now.

"Excuse me, but don't you think I might have some say in this?" Reaver protested. "I mean, it's my bum you're offering up here!"

"No!" Sparrow and Theresa barked at the same time.

"This is NOT in the script!" Reaver marched over to his desk and pulled up a thick packet of paper. "No where does it say I have to sleep with him!"

"Are those wrinkles near your eyes?" Theresa's voice was cheerful. "And my goodness, is that a gray hair?"

"Alright! Just...be gentle."

Sparrow looked affronted. "Of course I will. What do you think I am, some monster?"

/

"My word! You're…magnificent!" Reaver gasped, watching Sparrow roll out of bed and lurch to his feet. "So forceful, yet so gentle...where are you going?"

"Keep my end of the bargain, of course. Going to deliver your bloody seal for you."

"No! You can't! I mean…it's really not important. I'll send someone else….come back to bed. I'll let you be the mean school marm this time…"

"Nope. Man has to hold up his deals." Sparrow pulled on his dress. "Be back shortly. If you could be a dear and have some pie waiting…" He vanished out the door.

Reaver was a wreck for the next few days; shooting painters and photographers and sculptors sometimes before they'd even started working. He'd also managed to take out a few more innocent toasters, a blender, and a microwave unfortunate enough to 'ding' at an inopportune time.

When Sparrow had strolled back in, completely in tact and whistling, Reaver had nearly wept in relief

"I had the nicest time, I did." Sparrow crowed happily. "It was the 'Case of The Ding Dong Ditch'. Stupid blighter installed a door bell for another bloke that didn't work and won't give him his money back! Judge was very fair."

"Where did you go?"

"Where you sent me. 'The People's Court'"

"I said Shadow Court!"

"Oh. Thought it was a bit of an odd request. But look. I got me Harvey Levin's autograph, I did! See?" He help up a scrap of paper. "Oh well, off to try again!"

"No!" Reaver grabbed his arm. "I mean…we'll just send it to them by post."

There was an explosion outside, and Reaver winced.

When he'd originally heard that Sparrow was headed to Bloodstone, it had seemed a good enough idea to drop a line to Lucien informing him of the upcoming visit. Of course ,that had been before the situation had changed and he'd been given a new perspective on things. As well as a new appreciation for horns.

"Are they shooting at your house, Reaver?" Sparrow frowned. "Nasty Home Owners Association, eh? Buggers are always after me about my property in Bowertown, demanding I fix up the broken doors and windows. I say if I wanted the windows unbroken I wouldn't have head-butted them out in the first place, would I?"

"We need to get out of here…" Reaver was pulling Sparrow along. "Word of advice, love. Can I call you that? Is it too soon? I don't want to come across as clingy…anyway, if you're going to order a boatload of products from Avon, make sure you intend to pay for them." For all he knew it could be Avon: he'd stiffed them on the last order and some of those ladies weren't inclined to be forgiving about such matters. Well, it was probably Lucien but it didn't have to be. He wasn't starting off the relationship on a complete lie.

A window exploded near them and Reaver yelped.

"Anyway, we can escape using my rear passage."

Sparrow blinked. This was a trick he simply had to see.

"Alright… but you did say I got to be the school marm…"


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: And now, the conclusion to "Sparrow the Nutter." Thanks as always to those who have read this. I wasn't sure anyone would when I first starting posting it. You guys have been awesome. The ending might seem…lackluster, but it was the only thing that really fit.

**Part 4**

"I thought…" Sparrow was puzzled, as he dropped another of Lucien's men, "that you liked shootin' things."

"Not when they shoot back, I don't!" Reaver snapped, cowering behind Sparrow's shoulder. His fingers were locked so tightly into the paisley dress fabric that it was starting to rip. "What about pillows? Why can't we be attacked by pillows? People can say what they like about them, but I've never had a pillow return fire!" He aimed quickly and took out an empty barrel. It did not put up a fight.

Sparrow couldn't imagine how anyone could not love senseless violence, but the invaders weren't much to handle and he was alright with providing a meat shield for Reaver. As they progressed through the rear passage (Sparrow already planning on taking _someone_ to 'People's Court' for false advertising!) he chatted amiably with his new friend.

"So anyway, after Mum and Dad vanished, it was just me and Ruth…I mean Rose. Bloody hell, been so long I can't always right remember. We had us a brother name of Dan or Stan or some rubbish like that. Not the brightest lad to ever live but he had good teeth. Got himself hired by a toothpaste company about two weeks after we ended up on the streets, being sent around from town to town smilin' like a simp to sell the product. Supposed to save up enough money to send for us. Never heard from him again. I think…" Sparrow paused for a moment and took out several invaders with a bolt of electricity (these Avon people were dead serious! They could give the Spire Women's Roller Derby Team a good run for their money!) "I think that he ended up falling in with a bad crowd."

"Drugs?" Reaver asked, ducking back behind Sparrow before another potential assassin could spot him. "Gangs?"

"Politics. Spotted a poster on a wall a few weeks ago for some bloke runnin' for mayor of Westcliff. Recognize those teeth anywhere, I would. Little bugger. I ever get my hands on him, I'll knock those whites back down his throat. On the other hand, I do like his stance on more assistance for pensioners and a reduction in dog license fees so he's got my vote."

"But enough about me. Tell me about yourself." Sparrow decided this was very polite. They were, after all, on the verge of some sort of relationship, which according to all of the daytime talk-shows he'd watched required a bit of give and take.

"Well, you know those 'Cash for Soul' adverts they run on the telly at night?" Reaver asked, hunkering down and almost crawling behind Sparrow now over a wooden bridge. "Some elderly woman waving around a handful of coins and yammering about the lovely vacation she's going to take? Well, my lad, it's a rip off! We all called: thought it would boost the town economy. Now what's left, I ask you? Managed to cut a deal with them. They wouldn't refund my soul back even after I sat on hold for a good hour and demanded to speak to a manager. But I do manage to lease it back from them, in exchange for a sacrifice every few years. I usually send them Amway salesmen."

"You should try and switch carriers." Sparrow advised. "Got me a nice contract with the Temple of Shadows. All you have to do is give a little speech and bring in new recruits and you'll make a bloody mint. A bit like Amway, come to think of it. Just a bit less on the evil side."

They were nearing the end of the tunnel, and Sparrow glanced back at the pile of corpses he'd happily left in their wake. "Not that I haven't had a sportin' romp of it, Reaver, but perhaps you really should consider paying for your cosmetics next time."

"Right. I'll do just that." Reaver crossed his fingers behind his back. When their "Reverse signs of aging instantly!" products worked as promised, then and only then would his checks cease to bounce.

"So anyway, I figure we'll meet up with the others, pay a visit to Lucien, give him a stern talkin' to about murderin' sisters and knockin' people out of windows, and kill him a few times." Sparrow offered Reaver his hand and pulled him over a pile of debris. "Shouldn't take long."

"And what happens to us…I mean, what will you do next?" Must not appear needy; all of the magazines said that.

"I'm turning into a woman." Sparrow explained brightly. "Got to buy me a castle to do it. Bloody inconvenient. I mean, I could use the wheel at the Temple but I'd probably just end up dead."

A woman…he could deal with that. It would change things a bit, but all relationships had their little hurtles. Reaver motioned Sparrow to continue as they stepped out onto the beach.

"First thing I'm doing once I become a girly is the shoes. But that's just the start. Got me big plans for it, I do. Maybe join me a typin' pool somewhere. Or a become a Crucible Mum."

"A what?"

"A Crucible Mum. They got kiddie leagues. I'll get me a mini-wagon and load up the little 'uns and drive 'em to their lessons and tournaments. It'll be ever so much fun, getting into fights with the other mums, threatening the refs for not lettin' my kids play enough. Jolly time of it for all."

"And what will your…um…husband…be doing during all of this?" Reaver asked.

"Whatever 'e likes. Buy 'im a nice 'ouse…sorry, Theresa will nag me 'bout that. By him a nice house. Drop by now and then with a gift. Be a right nice kept man, he would. He could look after the little 'uns when I'm away pillaging."

"Yes! I mean…sounds wonderful." Reaver stammered. "What a lucky man he'll be."

"Well, can't do none of that until I take care of this Lucien business." Sparrow shrugged.

"He'll be dead by nightfall." Reaver promised. "I mean, whatever I can do to help, of course."

Fluffy and Garth were sitting near the water, playing Gin Rummy with Theresa, when Sparrow approached them with Reaver in tow. "Lookie what I found! Got the right chap this time, Theresa!"

Reaver examined the trio for a moment, and then thrust a wrapped package at Theresa. "Happy birthday!"

"My birthday was two months ago and I am not accepting the dark seal from you!" Theresa snapped.

"Oh come on. We're from the same neighborhood! Besides, you're about a thousand years old anyway. What's another 30 or so?"

"I'm just over 500, thank you very much!"

"If you two don't mind…" Fluffy ducked a beam of energy that passed so close to her head she could smell singed hair. "That large pyramid thing that just appeared is trying to kill us."

Reaver screamed and hit the sand. Sparrow sighed and cupped his hands. "Look, Miss, how much does he owe you for the bleedin' lipstick?" He shouted at the device. "I'll settle his account right now, but if this is how you treat loyal customers then in the future he'll be taking his business to Mary Kay!"

"You tell them!" Reaver cheered.

"Woof!" Steve agreed.

Garth braced himself and shot a beam of lightning back at the pyramid, which immediately exploded. Bits and pieces of blue plastic rained down on all of them.

"That's it?" Fluffy was disappointed. "What a cheap piece of junk!"

Sparrow reached down and picked up a piece of plastic. "Made in China." He read out loud. "Right again, Mum. Okay there, luv?" He pulled Reaver to his feet and brushed some plastic bits off of him. "Oh, don't cry. I took care of it. No more loud noise, I promise."

Reaver sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. "Thank you." He managed to choke out.

"So what happens next?" Fluffy wanted to know.

"I think we're supposed to get kidnapped by Lucien now." Reaver held up his somewhat battered copy of the script. Garth could see that several lines had been crossed out and rewritten, and someone had drawn numerous hearts around Sparrow's name every time it appeared.

Nothing happened.

"I SAID we're supposed to get kidnapped by Lucien now." Reaver yelled up again.

"Hold your bloody horses!" A voice boomed down. "I'm coming! Not as young as I used to be, you know. Back in my day, youngsters knew how to be patient! Now it's all rush, rush, rush. An old man can't even take a nap without someone banging at his door, asking to be abducted! Still got to sort through all these confusing insurance forms because some idiot set my Spire on fire!"

Sparrow blushed and toed the sand.

"Okay, hold still."

The script vanished from Reaver's hand.

"Sorry, sorry, usually aim better than that. Here we go."

There was a flash of light, and the Heroes, Steve, and Theresa all vanished.

/

The next few minutes greatly confused Sparrow, but as he found many aspects of life confusing that wasn't so unusual. Like why anyone cared if the privy paper was hung over or under and why people liked to watch shows about other people shopping for houses.

They were all in a room, and Reaver was begging Lucien not to kill him and to please take Garth instead. Garth offered Theresa, Theresa suggested Lucien would be much happier taking out Fluffy, and Fluffy thought Lucien's score with Sparrow should come first.

Then Steve jumped up and tried to lick Lucien's face, resulting in Lucien giving him a sound Tasering. Lucien then pointed the Taser at Sparrow, which annoyed the Hero immensely.

"My Dad used to say anyone who'd hurt an animal would hurt a person! You're a bad man, you are!"

"Shut up, 9th" Lucien waved the Taser in the air. "Don't think I don't recognize you! That fire is going on your yearly review! Doris put a memorial to you in the cafeteria! Everyone gave a speech about how you'd touched their lives! They dedicated a new wing in your honor! I'm a bad man? _You're_ a bad man, sir!"

"Please. You're _both_ bad men." Garth soothed. "But can we hurry this along? Fluffy and I have a flight to Samarkand to catch. We're spending the holidays with my Mum."

"Some bloody holiday." Fluffy muttered. "I'd rather be entertained by that Banshee."

"What was that, darling?"

"Nothing."

"I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as me!" Lucien shouted, trying to get their attention back on him. "And if you act now, I'll throw in a copy of my new book 'Daddy! How Could You?'" He held up a bound copy: a stick-figure drawing of a man had been taped over Fluffy's picture on the back cover.

"YOUR new book?" Fluffy snarled. "What do you mean, YOUR new book?"

Lucien threw the book at Fluffy's head. It went wide and smacked Garth in the face.

"Sorry. Usually have better aim than that. Toss it back here: I'll try again."

"Can we _please_ get on with this?" Theresa screeched.

Lucien shrugged and fired the Taser at Sparrow.

"Ow." Sparrow pulled the barb out of his chest. "What'd you do that for?"

Lucien sighed and pulled out a revolver. "Because it was easier than doing this." He pulled the trigger, and Sparrow could dimly hear Reaver screaming before he blacked out.

/

"NO!" Rose stomped her foot. "For the last bleedin' time yer supposed to round up the chickens and shoot the bottles, not the other way round!"

"Ah, Ruth…"

"Rose!"

"Fine." Little Sparrow snorted. "Stupid bossy zombie sister. Can we go kill someone?"

"No. We're the only people 'ere. This is paradise. See? This was our 'ouse." She pointed at the bedroom. "We're going to live 'ere forever."

"You know…" Little Sparrow eyed her thoughtfully. "Theresa was right. That H thing is bloody annoying! How is this paradise if I can't kill anyone? And where's the pie? And Steve? And that nice Reaver bloke?"

"None of that matters! Now go to bed, and we can repeat all of this tomorrow."

"Can I have a story?"

"I suppose." Rose sat down on the edge of the bed. "What story do you want?"

"War and Peace. But ya gotta read it like a chipmunk would."

Rose grabbed a huge book off the shelf next to the bed.

""Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the Buonapartes." She began in a high-pitched voice.

"You don't sound like a bloody chipmunk." Little Sparrow complained.

"Oh, sod this!" Rose threw the book to the floor. "Listen, you 'ear that music box outside? Go find it!"

"But it's late. I already brushed my teeth." Little Sparrow whined.

"The music box is filled with pie."

"Back in a tick!" Sparrow raced from the room.

/

"The music box…" Sparrow complained to anyone who would listen. "Was most definitely not filled with pie! Unless it was invisible pie, which makes no sense because I haven't invented it yet. I should have known never to believe anything _she_ said! I was going to make her a nice art project, a clay doll, but now I think I'll just send her a pile of Steve poo instead."

"Will…you…shut…up!" Lucien screamed. "This is my monolog! My moment to shine! My swan song!"

"Well, get on with it. Wasted enough of my time." Sparrow folded his arms. "Go on. Talk about how bloody brilliant you are, and how you're ushering in a better world and how happy everyone's going to be. Sunshine, lollipops, and kittens for all! Please, we're all ears!"

"Well, there's no need NOW!" Lucien complained. "Stupid 87th!" He pulled out his trusty pistol. "This time, I'll show you!" He pulled the trigger, and a black hole appeared in the middle of his head.

"Sorry…usually have better…" He fell over backwards and toppled off the platform.

"You stupid old sot!" Sparrow yelled after him. He realized he was still holding the music box, and flung it into the hole after Lucien. "It was my turn to shoot you for a change! And I'm not buyin' your book, neither!"

"Congratulations!" Theresa boomed, and stepped forward. "Tell him what he's won, Johnny!"

"Well, Theresa!" A very cheerful male voice boomed. "Sparrow, you've won one of the fabulous prizes behind one of these three doors!"

Theresa spun around, and three numbered doors appeared behind her. "Will it be door number 1? Door number 2? Or door number 3?"

"Door number 1" Fluffy screamed. "No, wait, door number 2!"

"Door 2!" Garth was jumping up and down.

"Door 3!" Reaver howled.

"Oh, I don't know…I'm so nervous…" Sparrow looked totally lost. "Okay, okay, I'll take door 4."

"There is no door 4!" The male voice did not sound quite so cheerful any longer.

"Well, I want what's behind bloody door number 4 anyway!" Sparrow demanded. "I bet it's full of pie, and you're just trying to hog it all for yourself!"

"Just give it to him!" Theresa shouted. "Every time…every damn time…"

"Fine. You've picked door 4. You've won…a million gold coins!"

Sparrow screamed as Reaver jumped into his arms. "Yes! I can buy lots and lots of pie!"

"Wait…" Garth frowned. "Aren't you already worth about 5 million or so from your real estate holdings?"

"Sod off! You're just jealous!" Sparrow shook his fist at the Hero of Will. "Good mind to put you back in your cage upstairs!"

"No you will not!" Theresa stomped her foot. "The Spire is under new management: mine! Now, all of you, get out right now before I call security!"

"So this is goodbye, then?" Sparrow asked.

"Go buy your castle, drink your potion, and I never want to see you again!" Theresa snarled.

"Right…just wondering…Lucien never did put that fire business on my report. Think I might be able to get my job back?"

"GET OUT NOW!"

"Fine. Stupid witch. Won't miss you a bit. Not a bloody bit…" Sparrow wiped his eyes, and Reaver patted him on the hand. "It's okay. Come on. Let's go get some pie."

"And if we hurry, we can just make our flight." Garth was beaming.

"Oh yes, wouldn't want to miss that…" Fluffy muttered to herself. "Can't keep the she-beast waiting…"

"What?"

"Nothing. Looking forward to seeing your Mum, darling. Goodbye, Sparrow. It's been…interesting."

"Bye! Don't forget to write…oh…I hate this. We have to promise we'll all keep in touch!" Sparrow shouted at their retreating backs. "I'm on Facebook! Friend me!"

/

Reaver gave Sparrow a sleepy grin and pulled the pillow close to his chest. "Hurry back. I'll be waiting." A shiny gold ring glittered on his finger.

Next to the bed were racks and racks of women's clothing and every color and brand of shoes known to man. Sparrow reached over and stroked a pair of black Manolo's lovingly. "I'll be back as soon as I can, my dearest."

Reaver cleared his throat loudly. "Right. You too." Sparrow patted him on the head. "Always wanted to be a blushin' bride, I have. Well, that and a nice crisp pile of leaves but you need proper schoolin' for that and probably one of those damned permits."

Reaver watched him go, and put his hands behind his head. His eyes fell on the black Manolo's…

"Well, don't suppose he'd mind if I tried them on. Just once…"

/

Sparrow stood on the platform, the obscenely-shaped bottle in his hand. He took a breath, and glanced downward. "Well, it's been bloody real, it has. It's not personal, you understand. It's just…well, you have to go now. You'll end up on a nice farm…do you have a sister? Well, you'll be on a nice farm with your sister, and hopefully she's a bit more honest than mine was. Good luck to you."

He pulled off the bottle and swallowed the contents in one gulp.

There was a flash of warmth, and his dress fell to the floor. It was far too big to fit on his new, slimmer frame.

In delight Sparrow spun around naked, and reached down in awe to pet his tiny, new feet.

They were…perfect. This was the single, greatest moment of his life. From this day on, everything was going to be brilliant."

"Hello!" A voice chirped in his ear. "Remember me?"

"Who the hell are you?" Sparrow noticed his voice was much higher than it had been a few minutes ago.

"Your wits. I know it's been a while. Didn't mean to stay away so long, but I took a wrong turn…let me just squeeze back in there…my goodness, what a mess! Give me a moment to sort all this out for you…"

Sparrow froze in his tracks. Very slowly he took in the dress on the floor and the empty bottle on his hand. All of the events of the last twenty years came rushing back to him, seen now through the eyes of a rather odd, but extremely sane Hero. One hand hesitantly crept toward his groin.

"Oh beans!"


End file.
